


shurley, you can't be serious

by fleurmatisse



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon Compliant, Fluff without Plot, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-01
Updated: 2018-03-01
Packaged: 2019-03-25 18:23:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13840425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fleurmatisse/pseuds/fleurmatisse
Summary: They’re not even hunting anything God-related, just a couple ghouls up in Montana, but something in Dean’s brain reminds him of Chuck Shurley and he looks over at Cas and just starts laughing.





	shurley, you can't be serious

**Author's Note:**

> set some time after they learn chuck is god  
> bless the movie airplane for giving me this title

It occurs to Dean in the middle of a case. They’re not even hunting anything God-related, just a couple ghouls up in Montana, but something in Dean’s brain reminds him of Chuck Shurley and he looks over at Cas and just starts laughing. Cas turns his attention from the mausoleum they’re staking out to Dean, who’s trying so hard to get ahold of himself but every time he looks at Cas, it’s funny all over again. He puts a hand on Cas’ shoulder, sucking in air.

“You—” he chokes out, and Cas starts looking concerned, angling his whole body toward Dean.

“What is so amusing?” he asks. 

Dean coughs, wiping his face with his free hand, and manages to get out, “Cas Shurley” before he’s gone again, both hands clutching his stomach as he leans against the steering wheel. He’s been running on coffee for three days straight because every time they’ve almost had the ghouls, they slip away again and they have to spend the whole night looking for more hideouts, so he’s more than a little hysterical by now. Maybe if Sam hadn’t decided to stay at the bunker they could’ve been home already. Cas places a hand on Dean’s back, leaning forward to try and get a look at Dean’s face.

“Surely what?” he asks, and oh god—Dean is gonna puke.

“Not surely,” he says, taking in a deep breath. He holds it for a second and chances a look over at Cas, who looks like Dean is dying in front of him. Dean shakes his head, a few more chuckles forcing their way out. “You, your last name. It’s Shurley.” He chokes on another round of laughter, practically howling, “Castiel Shurley.”

Cas frowns in his periphery, and then looks out the windshield. “I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere.”

Dean is too busy trying to breathe to pay much attention to which direction he goes, absently thinking Cas shouldn’t blow their cover, but he can’t get the words out. God, he’s so tired. He may actually die. The laughing finally loses steam when five minutes have passed and Cas hasn’t come back. It dies completely when five more minutes go by and there’s still no sign of him. Dean swallows hard, forcing his breaths to even out as he wipes his face on his jacket sleeve. He’s just about to grab his machete and get out when Cas opens the passenger door.

Cas leans over the seat to get a rag out of Dean’s bag one-handed, the other hand holding his blood covered angel blade. “The ghouls are dead.” He sits, successful in his search, and shuts the door. He glances at Dean as he cleans the blade. “Have you recovered?”

“Yeah,” Dean says. Thinking something happened to Cas was the perfect way to sober up, it turns out. He clears his throat and starts the car, then thinks better of taking it out of park. “Hey, do you wanna drive?”

Cas watches him carefully for a few seconds. “I can.”

“Great,” Dean says and gets out of the car. Cas does the same, opening the back door to stow away his blade while Dean drops into the passenger seat and then he goes around to the driver’s side. Cas has never driven the Impala before; he learned in various junkers, and it’s not like Dean thinks he’s a bad driver. There’s just never been a time that him or Sam couldn’t drive. Now he’s not even worried about Cas roughing up his car, leaving him able to lean his head against the window and shut his eyes, even if he’s still too wired to sleep. 

They’ve been driving about an hour, Dean rousing occasionally to change the radio station away from static, when Dean finally feels like he could sleep. He angles himself so his back his against the door, facing Cas, who watches him shift around until his jacket is a buffer between his spine and the door.

“That looks uncomfortable,” Cas notes.

Dean smiles, closing his eyes again. “Well, it’s no memory foam.”

He peeks at Cas to catch him smile softly. The radio goes to static again, and Cas switches it to something with The Byrds. Not something Dean would’ve picked, but he doesn’t mind.

“You should put your feet up,” Cas says a while later. 

Dean blinks out of his almost-sleep, frowning. “What?”

“You’re going to hurt your back if you sleep like that,” Cas says. Dean looks down at himself. His back is already kind of annoyed with the bumps on the road knocking him into the door, and twisting so his torso is at odds with his legs isn’t helping. He keeps frowning.

“I think you’re calling me old,” he says. Cas rolls his eyes. Dean watches him until he looks away from the road. “If I put my feet up, they’ll be in your lap. Dangerous driving.”

“I think I can handle it,” Cas says. Dean won’t deny that the offer is tempting. He knows Cas still doesn’t have the same concept of personal space as Dean, and Dean’s is basically nonexistent when it comes to Cas these days anyway. There’s still a long way back to Kansas.

“I make no promises about the smell,” he says, already untying his boots. Cas doesn’t laugh, but he looks at Dean with a sort of fond exasperation that Dean has to look away from before he does something embarrassing. He swings his legs up onto the seat, keeping his knees bent so his feet aren’t quite touching Cas’s legs. “You’re sure you don’t mind?”

“Not if you don’t,” Cas says. Dean should worry about how much he doesn’t look at the road. Instead he stretches his legs out, feet resting on Cas’s far thigh. He adjusts his lean against the door until he’s comfortable enough to lean his head on the top of the seat. The car was a lot easier to sleep in when he was 15. He doesn’t let himself overanalyze the comfort touching Cas adds. It’s nice. He closes his eyes again.

“If I had a surname,” Cas says before Dean gets close to sleep again, “I think I would prefer Winchester over Shurley.”

Dean feels his lips pull into a smile, nudges Cas’s side with his toes. “We’d be happy to have you.”

He registers Cas’s hand on his shin as sleep finally pulls him under. All in all, he thinks the next day as Cas sits with him while he eats a very late breakfast, it wasn’t a bad trip. 

**Author's Note:**

> catch me on tumblr @ [winkingwinchesters](winkingwinchesters.tumblr.com) (not spoiler free)


End file.
